Darkness in the Mind's Eye
by Faith-In-Nothing
Summary: Kira has gone insane. He has begun to kill the innocent people he claims he's out to protect. But is Light actually the one to blame? Or has a Death Note fallen into the hands of an enemy of Kira? What could this new killer's motive be... WARNING: YAOI
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone, I'm happy to present my very first fanfiction (that I've actually posted on this site that is...).

I'm a major Death Note fan. I haven't missed an episode since they first aired the show on Adult Swim. You will probably notice that my story starts out somewhat similar to the actual show. But that changes later on believe me. The second I saw the very first episode of Death Note I knew I was going to have some fun making lots of twists and turns in the storyline in my own fanfiction. So do not flame me...

Disclaimer: Yes, I own Death Note. As I do every other anime ever created... Just kidding! Calm down now, I do not own any anime okay! Especially not Death Note...

** Chapter 1:**

** Perpetual Solitude**

On a rock was where the creature sat. A rock just as cold, lifeless, and overlooked as he was. The only thing that reminded him that he was a living breathing creature were his thoughts. But even those began to slowly die as there was nothing left in the depths of his bleak soul to contemplate other than his own boredom. He sat in an odd position that only he could manage due to his long lanky frame. The dusty breeze blew gently, taking the beast's wings swaying in the direction of its path. His head hung low as he stared intensely at the ground, looking as if he was pondering something deep but in reality his mind was as much of a desolate wasteland as that of the land his kind "lived" on. His actual lack of mental activity could never be realized by the others though, since what was going on in his head could never be successfully portrayed through his face. It looked like he was some sort of demonic clown that someone had used permanent paint to make an outline of a smile around his lips. To make it so no matter what emotion he was trying to express he appeared not only content but overjoyed. He grinded his sharp pointy teeth together, just to make some sort of noise to break the silence, to break the restlessness that was slowly eating away at him from the inside so only he was aware of it.

This was a lifestyle that could only be lived by a Shinigami. Any other living thing would find some way to put itself out of its misery. But since Shinigami weren't really alive but not dead either, they proved to be stronger in aspects most others are weak in. Especially when it came to not having a purpose. They all sat motionless, some of them appearing to be dead and therefore being envied by the others for they too wanted freedom. Immortality was not as glamorous as fairy tales made it seem. In those stories, the writers left out one very important detail; insanity is fueled by time. And though the Shinigami wanted to die and finally be at peace, time moved forward, dragging them along with it. They lived in solitude. In this never ending world of flat terrain with cracked dry ground smothered with the stench of death. Lines of Shinigami as far as the eye could see just sitting there, as the thin line of their own sanity was on the verge of snapping. One of them occasionally bursting out into a restless impelled rampage, while others practically prayed to a god they knew wasn't there for their own death, as life was now what humans would consider "hell." Some of them played odd games with bones torn from their own bodies or left behind from diseased creatures. Stupid pointless games with no rules which only had one purpose and that was to keep the Shinigami busy from killing each other out of sheer boredom induced insanity. Each Shinigami were different in appearance, but they all shared one physical feature: their eyes. Not literally of course. They all had different shapes and sizes and colors. It was the look deep inside the eye where what was left of their false hope lied just trying to escape and make itself not only noticed but acknowledged. That dull listless look of utter pain and suffering that no one ever made any effort to fight since it had already been accepted as an inevitability. The Shinigami were supposed to be feared creatures, but as the beast sitting far off on the rock looked over his shoulder at those he would rot with for all eternity, he felt nothing but pure pity. Pity not only for them but for the Shinigami name. He felt shame as well, his kind were supposed to shower those below with utter dismay. The humans. To them Shinigami were just like ghosts; not enough evidence to prove they were real, or mere myths. They were the question that rested in the depths of every human's mind. The question that had no answer except for the few who already knew it.

Ryuk was what they called him, the one on the rock who isolated himself from the others, not wanting to accept the fact that those 'things' were all he had in terms of comrades. He was one of the few Shinigami whose moral fiber was still somewhat intact. The only one who had sat and witnessed as those among him went mad and knew that time had assigned him the same fate scheduled for him on an unknown date. The newest addition to the Realm of the Shinigami. Ryuk's large yellow eyes, still bright and monstrous like Shinigamis were supposed to be, stared aimlessly at the ground in front of him as his head hung low. His body limp from lack of movement. His internal system itself seemed to slow as it too, just as his mind, was beginning to see no purpose in living on, and began shutdown.

A large black beetle-like bug crawled nearby, heading for the rock Ryuk had already claimed as his seat. The Shinigami stared at it intensely. Killing was what Shinigami did, they were gods of death. So why weren't they doing anything? Surely there must be something better to do other than wallowing in their own oppression... Ryuk slammed his fist into the bug the second it was in arms reach, sending bits of severed remains in all directions. For a split second, Ryuk felt the long overdue thrill of killing flow through his emotion deprived body so quickly that he didn't even have time to feel it until after it had passed. He let out a deep jerky sigh.

_'Never has death looked so appealing...'_

There was a quick cracking sound as Ryuk straightened from his hunched position, his back screaming with protest since after hours it had become accustomed to the oddly slumped position the Shinigami had been in. Ryuk tilted his head back and stared into the dark oblivion above his head. Just as most things in the Shinigamis' lives, the sky itself was an illusion. What looked like moisture filled clouds were nothing but piles of dust covering every inch of sky. No light, no water, the land was nothing but dry heaps of nothing, just like the Shinigami who inhabited it. The air was so scorchingly dry it couldn't enter someone's body through a deep inhale. Instead you had to take short quick breathes. Almost like a dog panting. Yes that's what this land was full of, a bunch of sick, stray, emaciated dogs, all panting in harmony. All dumped in this desolate wasteland to die in life and live in death.

((Flashback))

Ryuk stood at the edge of the Realm of the Shinigami, a clear view of the planet claimed by humans below him. His eyes swathed in desire, desire to soar down to that world and refresh his memory of the land he once roamed long ago, desire to have a front row seat to the humans reaction when they found his ultimate weapon lying there on the ground looking oh so ordinary its finder couldn't possibly predict it would be the key to their own demise. Ryuk, too bent on finding a cure for his own apathy, didn't even consider that long ago it was that same weapon that consumed him until nothing was left other than his own unquenchable thirst for death and power. Not even realizing that he was about to become the very thing he had cursed that day when he was a human on the verge of death, the Shinigami who had dropped the notebook for the same reason he was about to standing nearby, laughing. Ryuk had stared at the Shinigami, his vision blurring in and out as he felt his own blood rising up his throat and oozing out of the corner of his mouth as he lay nearly lifeless on the cold ground saturated with his own internal fluids. Though red and blue lights flashed and sirens blazed, rustling of footsteps and loud cautious voices echoed, and clicks of guns being cocked all surrounded him, his mind had drowned them out so the one sound he died to was that Shinigami laughing... Now, god knows how many years later, Ryuk stood with his arm outstretched, the notebook dangling from the loose grip of his fingers. His own barely distinguishable amount of conscience the only thing holding him back from destroying the life of an innocent unsuspecting human.

_'Humans... We are supposed to be superior to them, but without them there would be no solution to our boredom. They are relied on to bring feeling back to creatures such as me who have forgotten what feeling is...'_

It was that type of thing, Ryuk concluded, that you just had to do without thinking. That type of thing you knew you had to do but couldn't for various reasons. That type of thing you just had to do, then after it was done your conscience screamed at you even though every fiber of your being knew there was nothing left to do but go along with it. Ryuk's fingers opened, at the moment his mind was most blank, allowing the notebook to fall. His golden bulgy eyes watched as it fell further and further away until it was nothing but a black dot among a never ending sea of blue, brown, green, and white. The colors of that planet the Shinigami loathed but depended on to keep themselves entertained. Every inch closer the wretched thing fell to Earth, Ryuk's guilt began to subside as his smile widened. Now, from the perspective of a Shinigami and not a human, Ryuk couldn't feel more satisfied with himself, and he did what seemed to suit that moment best - he began to laugh. A sharp maniacal laugh that echoed throughout the vast land in which he stood and ringed in the other Shinigamis' ears as they scowled at him from afar. Step one had been accomplished. Next, he'd go to the human world, and see who fell victim to the power of the oh so innocent looking notebook of death.

_'All I have to do now... Is wait...'_

((End of flashback))

Though the possibility of the Shinigami actually existing had haunted humans for centuries, the beasts were failing miserably in keeping humans questioning their existence. The Shinigami had watched over hundreds of years, as the humans evolved, became smarter, invented new weapons and other things made for the benefit of their own kind or more importantly for the personal gain of one specific individual. The selfishness and materialism growing among the species until they eventually didn't look past the scope of their own reality, too engrossed in their own wants to look past what was in front of them and maybe consider there was more out there other than what they've already seen. Humans didn't need to worry about Shinigami anymore, all they had left to fear was themselves. The ambition of humans had escalated so drastically over the many years that they were nearly on the same level of wickedness as the Shinigami. But humans weren't as strong as they led on. Without their weapons, knowledge, and cunning, they'd be just as helpless and lost as they where when they took their very first steps on planet Earth. They were all like a herd of sheep, willing to follow anyone strong enough to guide them. Their gullibility disgusted the Shinigami, who now put the duty upon themselves of returning to that world and giving humans something to fear other than their own kind. No matter what the humans did, no matter what they invented, no matter what new death machines may be created in the future, nothing could compete with the notebook each Shinigami possessed. Some of them rocked back and forth, chuckling insanely to them selves, holding the notebook hard against their chest as if it were all they lived for...the only thing that made their pathetic selves superior to those below. The one weapon that could lure any living creature under its spell. The one thing that the Shinigami worshiped even though it was that notebook they held so dear that had stripped them of all humanity and destroyed their lives by taking death from them, and then sending them all to the same place where there was nothing for them to do other than speak of their pasts and how temptation had got the better of them. They used the notebooks' power to its full extent, resulting in them being sent there, where it looked as if they lived but each day they emotionally died just a little more... each of them holding their notebooks close to their barely beating hearts.

Ryuk watched the dust above him. His organs squirming like a sea of eels as he felt mind-numbingly empty. He had waited long enough. He rose from his seat and walked through the landscape of death and suffering, making sure not to look into the eyes of the Shinigami he crossed paths with. Not wanting to deal with their envious glares because he had actually done what they couldn't - opening his fingers and letting it fall. Ryuk approached the edge, his large black wings emerging and flowing behind him, the wind working against him as if even it disapproved of his leaving. Ryuk looked over his shoulder, taking one last glance at the world he was hoping not to return to for quite some time. The sight he wished could be permanently erased from his memory. Each Shinigami within sight seemed to be looking at him, or purposely ignoring him, an aura of misery clouding around them that they didn't seem to have enough internal strength to rupture. Ryuk's wings extended out, as he prepared to make the leap to freedom, one thought following him down:

_'This world... Is rotting.'_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Flawless Imperfection**

Life was no longer something anyone had control over. Everyone's schedule had been followed so closely for so many long grueling years they were now convinced it wasn't in their power to change it. Time itself seemed to be smothered with molasses as it inched slowly forward only by the force of the humans of Earth. Life was one tedious ball of repetitive boredom that never rolled any faster or slower. Murder was committed every day, along with robbery, kidnapping, or any other sort of appalling crime that could come to mind. But, in some sort of unexplainable twist, none of those horrid things scared anyone anymore - they had just become part of the schedule. Every day they each watched the News and shook their heads disappointingly and tried to convince themselves that these criminals couldn't possibly be their allies, but devils in disguise. Even young children were subjected to the News on a daily basis. Having to watch parents crying, begging the public to contact them if they happen to see their eight-year-old daughter who had been kidnapped just days earlier. The culprit being a convicted sex offender posing as a caretaker. While the young viewers, asked themselves in the back of their still developing minds, will I be next? High class males being stabbed to death on their way to work, teens being beat to death over drugs, women being raped and put in bags to be thrown over the bridge's edge like garbage, and young children being taken advantage of in ways their innocent minds were unable to handle or even comprehend. Humans accepting this kind of violence as just another way of life was sign enough that something was **seriously** wrong. But everyone would rather live in bliss than in fear, so they all turned their blind side to the problem. In the back of their minds, their thoughts whispered, the one question that dominated over all else: how much longer do I have left?

Light Yagami was a seventeen-year-old senior, whose frame of mind separated him from the others who saw suffering as just another human necessity. He was blessed with intelligence, good looks, charm, and other qualities that would assure him a promising future. Though the young man was gifted in almost every aspect a human could dream of, he had nothing to channel all of his perfection into. He had spent so much time focusing on school he hadn't even thought of his life after graduation. But he was the smartest in his class, he could do anything, right? No. Anywhere Light went he would be miserable. He belonged to the minority of kids who actually had a chance at a rewarding life. One filled with money, success, authority over others inferior to themselves, and even material possessions that people in this day and age have become so reliant on. But as the idiot masses began to steadily increase around him, Light was beginning to find his mental barrier of tolerance was weakening a little more each day. On the outside, his face much resembled those around him: bored, distracted with basic teenage peer pressure, not wanting to be there in school when he could be out doing what he wanted and not what the state required of him. He had good posture, with a certain form of confidence that many his own age envied and those who were older praised. But beyond his seemingly perfect exterior he was **screaming**, maybe even praying, for something to grab him and pull him back from diving off the edge of composure and into the depths of insanity.

Light sat precariously in his chair, his chin resting on his palm as his dull listless eyes focused outside through the nearby window. The teacher's voice had become nothing but a dull drone that was either muffled or ignored by the students' own dominating thoughts. Though Light had zoned out a tad bit, he was always at least semi there unlike his classmates who were constantly chatting amongst themselves or playing on their cell phones. Everything the teachers said, Light committed to memory, so the next day when the educators' repeated the teachings for those who hadn't paid attention the day before, Light had all the time in the world to do whatever he pleased. All of that free time in a classroom without much to do, Light did the only option that actually somewhat appealed to him: he observed those around him. He'd hear their conversations, watched their body language as they signaled to each other from across the room, and even caught sight of a few text messages. His front row seat to the lack of interest in education always left him asking himself the same question - what's happening to the world?

Light was a victim. After many series of events that seemed to kick him out of the spotlight he worked so hard to put himself under, he concluded that he's being targeted by a superior being above. A being that clearly likes to see him suffer. A being who possesses the power to alter Light's life in a negative way just to get a good laugh. Almost as if the sinister god had a remote and continuously put Light's life in either slow motion or fast forward depending on what was most inconvenient for the boy. Light, who knew he was fighting a losing battle, gave in to the demands of the god, and became an apathetic robot just as those around him. Watching the News in silence as his kind were being slowly slaughtered for little to no reason. Everyone was quick to point fingers at those around them. Each of them not wanting to accept blame for any of their actions (whatever they may be). When in reality, their number one enemy was right in front of them every time they stood in front of a mirror.

The bell rang, shooting a spine tingling shrill throughout every inch of the school. It sent many sleep deprived students back into reality and startled many gossipers out of their conversations. The room was empty before the ring had even ended. Most of the students had already been halfway out of their seats watching the clock and counting the seconds until their freedom. Darting out of the room as if another second in there would kill them, leaving the teacher in mid-sentence as he stood still holding an open book in one hand and a whiteboard marker in the other. Light sat alone in the back corner of the room, his supplies not even packed yet. The teacher smiled to himself as he sat down at his desk, a sense of self-satisfaction knowing that at least one of his students wasn't dying to get out of his presence. It was that one student that inspired the teachers to get out of bed every morning. Even if all others seemed useless, at least there was Light Yagami. The boy's superiors expected much out of him as he came of age, but their expectations couldn't possibly be as high as the ones the boy demanded from himself.

School was indeed a wearisome daily process, but the teenager had a reason for not bolting out of the classroom everyday. That reason being he had nowhere he'd rather be. His home life was**just**as wearisome. The streets were packed with cars. Even the sidewalks seemed like roadways: people moving either too quickly or too slowly, everyone dodging each other in an attempt to get to a certain destination. Light had his hands pressed deep in his pockets as he walked, his stance somewhat slumped as the long previous night of studying was beginning to take its toll. His head hung low, his eyes watching his feet carry him in a pattern... left, right, left, right. He heard many grumbles from people around him as they swerved past him, his lack of concern toward getting out of their way upsetting them. But at this point he was beyond caring about anyone other than himself. He'd focus on getting out of the hole he'd dug and thrown himself in before he'd concentrate on anyone else's needs.

"I'm home."

Light said dully, his shoulder wincing with pain as the strap from his bag dug through his clothes and into his shoulder. The boy would surely deal with some sort of spine issues in the future due to the damage done by all those heavy school books. His mother poked her head around the corner of the kitchen and smiled at him. That kind of smile which is a mother's only option left when she no longer knows what to say to her child. Light was successful, he didn't rely on her for anything accept a room and a little food now and then. Even if for some reason she disappeared Light would easily be able to make it on his own. She was aware of this, and so was Light. She just needed to catch a quick glimpse of her son before he disappeared into his room each day. Her eyes tearing with pride and pain at the same time knowing that her existence was not necessary or even wanted by him. Him, the boy who didn't need any advice about girls, any help with homework, any reassurance that he'll pass an upcoming test, or even a hug to remind him that he was loved and all he was feeling was just a temporary adolescent faze. Light needed no one, because no one could hear his hollow soul as it cried for help in its jail cell that was his skull.

Light slowly made his way up the stairs, his eyes closed, as the stomach churning feeling of restlessness and exhaustion tortured his energy drained body. He sighed softly as he opened the door to his lair, throwing his backpack onto his desk chair and flopping down lifelessly onto his bed at a diagonal angle so one of his legs remained resting on the floor. His eyes traveled over the lines of the ceiling tiles, then focused on a small sliver of light that flowed from the exposed crack between his window and the curtain that covered it. Light made the mistake of turning on the television. After many minutes of silence as he lay motionless spread out on his bed, it seemed like a good idea. The familiar image of a man in a suit with a microphone appeared on the screen. Behind him, an ambulance. The lights of the vehicle sent red flashes through Light's room, making him feel as if he were actually there. He sat up on his elbows, so he could get a clear view of the screen. The long overdue sensation of interest actually flowing through his emotion starved body. The feeling quickly subsided though, leaving Light in total angst as his heart ached. It was just another typical News story. Man robs bank, people die, as so on and so forth. Light let his arms slide forward, allowing him to plop flat down against the bed once again. He scolded himself for even considering this case would be any different than those previous to it. He focused on the red flashes that shot across the ceiling as the ambulance continued to wail and the newscasters ran about in a delirious frenzy.

_'It's always the same story. One pathetic criminal after the next all attempting some sort of asinine crime. Only to have their efforts prove to be pointless when they flee with empty hands at the sound of sirens, leaving many injured or even dead behind them...'_

Light rested his hands behind his head as his eyes followed the red lights flashing in a circular pattern across the ceiling. He sighed deeply, his mind searching vigorously through all its records in an attempt to find something to think about. Anything to get his mind off the atrocities the News was shoving in peoples' faces. As if people don't have enough trouble accepting they have to share the world with idiots. Every other channel is focusing on what society is trying to forget, as if they get a kick out of reminding people of what they are working so hard to ignore and push out of their minds forever. A few weeks earlier, a journalist had been murdered. A well brought up Caucasian man in his mid forties, caught in the crossfire of two fighting gangsters. Due to the gangsters origin, the police were accused of being racist when they tried to arrest them for the homicide. Light only had one thing to say about the incident: "Great... There goes one less educated person."

Death was an inevitability that had already been accepted by the mass majority of humans. But murder? It was destined for some but not others. Most of the people, in this city in particular, had not only accepted death but expected it. Being swept off the road by a drunk driver was more common than a person dying of old age or disease. Some people reacted to this by becoming so timid they ended up going insane trying to stay alive. While others decided to live life like there's no tomorrow. Those were the first to be killed. It's those who weren't afraid of death, or who didn't expect it, that were swept away by the angels before all others. Sending those who still roamed Earth into a panic as they huddled together like a herd of lost sheep. Their own paranoia consuming them to the point where death didn't seem so frightening anymore.

The sirens had stopped, and the booming sound of the newscasters had gone as well. But that didn't mean the drama was over. It was just a commercial break. How kind of them to give the audience a few minutes to mourn over what they just witnessed while the News crew schemed on what sickening examples of inhumane evil to publicize next. As if it's a contest between News stations to see who can come up with the most heart breaking story. Which would be much more amusing if it were all just a movie and not reality. Light closed his eyes, so all he could see was the darkness of the back of his eyelids. The darkness was quickly shattered when something outside shone on his face. He closed his eyes tightly before opening them up just a crack. The setting sun shone through his window as the breeze blew the curtain forward. The forest green cloth swayed back and forth, revealing the sunset then hiding it repeatedly. Light watched without much interest. Not even catching the striking similarities between himself and the inanimate object before him. That's what he was, a curtain swaying in the breeze. Being forced against his will to move in a certain direction in a perpetual pattern that would lead him absolutely nowhere. His breathing began to slow, as his eyes became blurry with a layer of mist. His eyelids began to fall due to a sudden weight put upon them, and Light couldn't help but wonder if maybe he was dying. But it wasn't that simple. There was too much in store for him to leave Earth now, too much time had been destined for him, too many people who expected him to accomplish great things, leaving the world in awe at his brilliance after his departure. He prayed to the superior god above him, or anyone who was listening to just end the torture treatment and kill him already while he had a shred of dignity left. But all he received was silence, and he knew with every fiber of his being that someone up above was laughing at him, offering him the glimpse of freedom only to swipe it away the second Light reached out a hand to grasp it. He then found himself falling into a light sleep, one thought following him down:

_'This world... Is rotting.' _


End file.
